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COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr 



A BOOK OF 

POETRY AND 
THOUGHT 

JOHN LEO COONTZ 




ARTIetViSRITAn! 



RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GOBHAM PRESS 
BOSTON 



Copyright 1913 by John Leo Coontz 
All rights reserved 






Tke Oerkam Prm, Boitm, XJ. S. A. 

MAR 16 i9l4 

©C!.A362895 



THIS BOOK IS 

DEDICATED 

TO THOSE WHO BT 

THE GRACE OF GOD 

HAVE INFLUENCED ME 

TO BE WHAT I AM 



PREFACE 

The author of this book, which is presented 
humbly to pubHc taste, has not much to say for its 
contents. The work in the following pages is the 
work of all hours and all seasons, from the heart. 
The things that follow here were written as they 
came, and in that measure most pleasing and 
acceptable to the fancies. The author hopes only, 
that those who read them may find a little of the 
comfort and peace that has come to him often, 
in a recollection of them. 

Leo Coontz. 

January 17, 19H 



CONTENTS 

The Poet's Theme 18 

Memories of South England, Winchelsea . . 14 

Beloved Hours of Spring 15 

On Burns' Birthday 15 

Rejoice Ye Flowers 16 

The Sweetest Girl 16 

Epigram for a Gift 17 

The Vale of Sleep 17 

Brighter 18 

Sweet Blow the Flowers 18 

How Beautiful, O Earth 19 

Autumn ^20 

After Reading " Lucy Poems " W 

Fragment — Hymn for Light 21 

My Love, She's but a Lassie Yet 22 

Jenny's Charms 23 

Yet Calm Thyself 24 

Near Washington, D. C 24 

There is None Like Her, None 25 

My Love and 1 26 

They Dwell Not in the Stars 26 

Lines 27 

To Miss 28 

Lines 29 

Composed in the Field in Spring 30 

To 31 

For a Valentine 81 

Lines 82 



CONTENTS 

My Heart is Filled 32 

As Some Pale Visitant 33 

Frail Star of Heaven 33 

Stars 34 

Rosalie's Love 34 

A Soft Wind 35 

"The Hour I Met Wi' Sue" 35 

To a Dead Brown Thrush 36 

Dead and Cold 37 

The Time is Not Yet Dead 38 

Can the Song be Silent 39 

High Thoughts 39 

The Sun Breaks Gently 40 

Sprmg 40 

To 41 

No More We'll Go A-Roving 41 

Whither is the Music Fled 42 

Ye Flowers That Come Again on Earth. ... 43 

Four Years 44 

A Memory 44 

Dreams 45 

Sitting in the Sun 46 

Poetry 46 

Reading Shelley 47 

An Inspiration 47 

How Can It Rain 48 

A Knight's Homage 49 

My Notre Dame 50 



CONTENTS 

My Hopes ^^ 

Press Thy Lips to Mine 52 

Drink Deep 52 

The Bonny Doon 53 

Mona Waters 54 

Maiden Meek ^^ 

Who Hath Not Watched 55 

'Tis Said that Men 56 

Dear Wilhelmme 56 

Wordsworth 57 

1 Mounted Steps 58 

Calm as the Sunshine 58 

Sonnet 59 

Written to the Mood 60 

Baby B ^^ 

To Miss 61 

Trinity 62 

WiU-0-the-Wisp 63 

O Happy Hours 64 

Lines 64 

Lines 65 

The Sea Maiden 65 

Missouri Coon Song 66 

Between the Plough Handles 67 

While Ploughmg 67 

Sonnet to Keats 68 

Lispired by Miss 69 

The Throstle's Song 70 



CONTENTS 

Another Year 71 

At Night... 71 

A Red Bird Singmg 72 

Sonnet to a Red Bird 72 

Summer and Autumn 73 

The Eternal Dawn 74 

Gethsemani 75 

These Thoughts 75 

Wind and Waves 76 

After Reading Eugene Field 76 

Come O'er the Seas 77 

The Influence of Nature on Life 78 

A Memory 78 

To Miss 79 

A Memory 79 

To Miss 80 

Woman 81 

I Dream of the South 82 

In the Shadows 83 

Notre Dame 84 

My Soul's Bride 85 

A Memory 86 

The Years 86 

To My Mother 87 

Silver Dreams 88 

To a Toad 89 

Fare-thee-well My Little Lover 90 

The Wand'ring Season 91 



CONTENTS 

Goodnight ®* 

Scottish Dialect ®^ 

The Cotton Now is Blooming ©3 

To ^4 

The Year is Dead ^^ 

On Reading Tennyson 05 

Refrain from Kathleen Mavourneen 96 

Commemoration ^^ 

A Beautiful Day ^'^ 

A Memory ^'^ 

To Miss Singing 98 

A Memory 0® 

Sacred Heart Church 99 

One True Home 100 

Where are the Hopes 1^1 

Bonny Was the Hour 101 

Fragments *0* 

One by One 104 

Kind Thoughts 105 

I had a Wish 105 

This Spot 106 

The Fields are Green lOtJ 

A Glorious Day 107 

Broken Gleams 108 

MoUie 108 

To Miss 109 

To the Seasons HO 

Sitting in the Sun ' m 



CONTENTS 

Benbow 112 

The Silver-Chorused Bell 113 

Columbia 120 

On Leaving School 123 

To Poesy 123 

Sonnet 124 

Inspired by Miss 124 

Glide on Sweet River 125 

Now Stormy Waters 125 

Inspired by Miss 126 

The Holiness of Love 126 

O Why Should 1 127 

Only the Dead Shall Rise 128 

Composed While Plowing 128 

Inspired by Miss 129 

Inspired by Miss 129 

Inspired by Miss 130 

In the Spring 130 

Preface to Philosophical Meditations 131 

Philosophical Meditations 133 

Beginning 133 

Life 136 

Principle 139 

Understanding 140 

Ideas 142 

Innate Ideas 144 



THE POET^S THEME 

I saw a man the other day 

Pick up his pen, and write away. 

He wrote *'world-thots" and of "world-deeds 

(Poor fool, he thought to solve our needs.) 

I want not "cities" in my brain. 

But waving fields of corn and grain, 

And human souls, and God on high, 

And sunset quivering in the sky. 

A cottage, and a woman there 

Working and singing, mild and fair. 

Just Life and Death and God and men, 

Is all I want, to grace my pen. 

January 12, 1913 



13 



MEMORIES OF SOUTH ENGLAND, 
WINCHELSEA 

I travelled in a foreign land, 

Alone, and by a sea, 

A poppy-garden leaned toward the strand 

And ships sailed there, O sleeply. 

The sun was there, a hillside down, 

And there a warmth crept to my blood. 

For ages, and the English cro\NTi, — 

I felt that all was good. 

Yes, all was good, for then I knew 

The souls of England's poets; 

Their mighty dreamings passed to view 

There where the poppies bloweth. 

In the garden, by the sea. 

January H, 1913 



14 



BELOyfiD HOURS OF SPRING 

Beloved Hours of Spring that woo 
Sweet buds and blossoms gay 

From many an isle of silver hue, 
That dreameth by the way. 

Soft, rosy, Hours of mirth and joy, 
And Spring's bright Fancy wooing 

All things to life, — who would destroy 
Or be your Love's undoing! 

January 25, 1909 



ON BURNS' BIRTHDAY 

If I had a glass of gin 
And a lass upon my knee, 

I'd pledge dear Bobby Burns 
Now born across the sea. 



January 25, 1909 



U 



REJOICE YE FLOWERS 

Rejoice ye flowers that ye are living 
And are not slumbering with the dead 

As I, who with these thoughts am giving 
Ye kisses, for your sweetness shed. 

February 13, 1909 



THE SWEETEST GIRL 

The sweetest girl I ever met 
It was the springtime, O, 

When flowers are full o* dewy wet 
And days for loving, O. 

The sweetest girl I ever met 
Was laughing blue-eyed, O, 

With lips that made one other's wet 
To taste their sweetness, O. 

February U, 1909 



16 



EPIGRAM FOR A GIFT 

A thousand wishes I thee give, 
A thousand wishes bright 

And multipUed, that each may Uve 
As long as thou dehght. 

January^ 1909 



THE VALE OF SLEEP 

Pleasant is the vale of sleep, 
Thou must wake to dream and weep, 
Slumber on and kiss the clouds, 
Wavy beams of silver shrouds; 
Wrap thy hmbs, and spirits fleet 
Feed thee smiles of slumber sweet. 
Never leave that dreamy realm, 
Else the mortal, overwhelm 
And Thou never dream again 
But reUve in pangy pain. 

November ISy 1908 



17 



BRIGHTER 

Brighter than the ocean wave, 
Brighter than the morning star, 
Brighter than the moonbeams' glance 
Or the lovely dew-belled flower, 
Bright as all things here may be 
Thou art brighter still to me. 

October 10, 1908 



SWEET BLOW THE FLOWERS 

Sweet blow the flowers that bloom in May, 
Soft rmi the rivers sweetly tuned, 

The garden dreameth by the world-wide way, 
The seasons fall all silver-mooned. 

Yet with all this my breath is cold, 
Still with these all, mine eye is dark. 

They bless my blood a thousand-thousand 
fold, 
They leave my spirit pale and stark. 

August 16, 1911 



18 



HOW BEAUTIFUL, O EARTH 

How beautiful, O earth art thou ! 
How charming are thy woods; thy flowers, 
Ah, they are Hke some spirits' breath 
That whispers of a golden death. 

Immortal vales to bUss confined 
With love to love immortal twined, 
Thou, Mary, there forever dear. 
Why mind I here the dropping tear. 

September 2, 1911 



19 



AUTUMN 

O never May was half so sweet 
As Autumn in her pensive way, 

The low, last call of birds that beat 
Into the hush of dying day. 

Some wealth to crowns may pass in view, 
Some lust, for youthful hopes astray 
When flowers spring to every hue 
Along some old heroic bay. 

But Autumn, oh, thy mournful strain. 
Thy music low, thy breath all moist. 

There is no thing on earth but vain. 
All, all, are vain, they do but foist. 

September 23, 1911 



AFTER READING "LUCY POEMS" 

What is this Love that we must know 
The beauty and the dreaming? 

All things on earth are passing show, 
This Love, I believe but seeming. 

September SOy 1911 



FRAGMENT— HYMN FOR LIGHT 

Dread spirit that dost weave and consecrate 

This fleshy form at its conceptive birth 

With hues of thine own Immortahty. 

Thou, Great Inspirer of all the forms on Earth 

Of life — a cloud doth hover o'er the state 

Of my weak sight; between Immensity 

And understanding frail, 

A soul-shadowing veil 

That leaves me groaning to the stars; like night 

That droops between that lovely silver sphere 

And this dull earth, and makes intenser far 

The longed relation — even does the clear 

Beginning of my yearnings cry the Light 

Which will my soul's repressed desires unbar. 

E'en as a child Immutability 

Had charms which came like shadows in a dream, 

Insinuations soon to take a form 

And shape, distinct, which were in time to gleam 

Reflected harmonies of Divinity, 

Revolving with the accent of a storm. 

On Pegasus upsoaring 

My soul light-fired exploring. 

Began to surge the deep ethereal vast, 

The woods, and night's lone solitude, the wind 

One moment hung suspended, left upon 

My soul a deep impress, which fed me fast 

And brought such things as music heard and gone 

That leaves forebodings strange within the mind. 

But what of that.? the frailest form that creeps 
Can measure circumstance of Being given — 



21 



MY LOVE, SHE'S BUT A LASSIE YET 

My Love, she's but a lassie yet, 

A lassie yet, a lassie yet. 
My Love she's but a lassie yet, 

And O, and O, and O. 

Her Eyes are like the sparkle jet. 
The sparkle jet, the sparkle jet, 

Her eyes are like the sparkle jet 
And O, and O, and O. 

Her bosom like the snowy wet. 
The snowy wet, the snowy wet. 

Her bosom like the snowy wet 
And O, and O, and O. 

We married soon shall be, and yet, 
Shall be, and yet, shall be, and yet 

We married soon shall be and yet, 
And O, and O, and O. 

Jvly 17, 1909 



m 



JENNY'S CHARMS 

'Tis Jenny's charms that fire my bosom a' 
The fairest flower that sweetens with the 
dew, 

Around her all the others drooping fa' 

When blushing up she lifts her lovely hue. 

O what the power my youthfu' heart would 
drain ! 
O wha is she that gives me every wound ! 
'Tis Love that bids me wofu' deep complain, 
'Tis Jenny fair, in youthfu' blush and 
bloom. 

August 6, 1909 



^ 



YET CALM THYSELF 

Yet calm thyself while long hours creep 
Cold, unimpassioned to their end, 

Their passiveness should not make weep 
The heart no longer Fate can rend. 



April, 1909 



NEAR WASHINGTON, D. C. 

A pastoral scene as fair as one of old 
Are these low hills of living glory, green. 



1909 



THERE IS NONE LIKE HER, NONE 

There is none like her, none, 
Though all the stars were one. 
And that one star alone 
Was all this earth might be 
Of dream and phantasy; — 
She lovelier still would be. 

There is none like her, none. 

The Queen — star fairy — kist. 

Robed in a mornmg mist 

Or evening amethyst 

Is beautiful to see. 

But radiant and divine, 

More beautiful and fair 

Was she — uncrowned — a maid 

Who sometimes lightly played 

With happy hands, where laid 

The leaves in downy shade. 

Not Nature on her throne. 

Nor anything I've known 

Or ever dreamed to be 

More beautiful 

Than she, 

The voice of God 

Made dutiful 

Tome. 

May 25y 1912 



25 



MY LOVE AND I 

A-la- Browning ivithout apologies 

My Love and I fell out one day, 
All in the merry month of May, 
She, with a pout, 
(But I was gay) 
When my Love and I 
Fell out one day. 

But we have smiled and kist again. 
And now we laugh and talk of then, 
And that's the way 
My love and I 
Made up one day. 

UEnvoi 
We twa hae met, we twa hae parted 
And I am left sair broken-hearted. 



June i, 1912 



THEY DWELL NOT IN THE STARS 

They dwell not in the stars, nor where the breath 
Of men contaminate, but in the mind are they— 
Those visitations calm — of thought. 

1912 



LINES 

Still sad thoughts come and fill with gloom 

The ever-struggling heart. 
And shadows fall Uke rolling doom 

And once again I start. 

The spring returns with gay-crowned flowers, 

The earth, the air, the sky 
Thrill with a gladness rained in showers, 

Nor loth am I to die. 

Thou wert a joy, like One unborn; 

The breath and hght of days 
Of introspection here, unshorn 

Of human darkened ways. 

Thou wert the purest drop that ever 

Watered a desert-soul. 
Thou wert the cloud, the sunbeam, river. 

My Life, my God, my all ! 

October 2Jf, 1911 



%1 



TO MISS 



Thou hast my heart, but I not thine, 
Then, pray, thee gently take 

maiden from this muse of mine 
The thoughts thou sweetly wake. 

1 have nor Life, nor Hope, but thou 
Hast been to me unknown 

A Power subtle deep and strong. 
When flowers to spring are blown. 

December 30, 19 V2 



28 



LINES 

Immortal days of Love, thy youth is o'er, 

Dead, are the rosy hours that thou mock-crowned 

With dream-envisioned flowers; and in their 

graves 
All silent lying thy most cherished Hopes. 
'Tis true, she, whom the earth is not more fair, 
With all her lily-children and the rare, 
And radiant stars outspread is, dead, dead, dead! 
Hath ceased one here. Lament! I know it not 
If tears have brought relief from sorrow sought; 
The passive hour has been a guest to me 
More dear, with more of hirnian and divine 
Than all the griefs that ever choked the mind. 
blessings on these calm and even thoughts, 
And blessings be on all I see and hear, — 
The sound of vernal showers on the grass. 
The faint unbosomed flowers and the mass 
Of folded buds, and all that wakes to pass 
Within the mind, and leave a holy tomb 
Rose-showered with a melody of light 
And vibrant strong delight of sense-repressed 

gloom. 
May 7, 1911 



29 



COMPOSED IN THE FIELD IN SPRING 

The night stars kiss the evening dew, 
So I would bid thee, sweet, adieu; 
The soft winds sigh a love caress. 
All gently thee to me, I press. 
Love, goodnight! 
Lines — 1911 



The seasons* joys are thine, O earth. 

Their lovehness and calm 
Thine too, the mother-pangs of birth 

And thine the blessed balm. 

I envy not what thou possess, 

I envy not, nor these 
Thy forms displayed, nor more nor less, 

Thy innocence or ease. 

But there was One who late here moved, 

A mortal, if such be; 
She whom I cherished, more than loved,— 

If she were here with me! 

May 12, 1911 



30 



TO 

No voice has passion's stormy wave 
Within my beating breast, 

With every fear this side the grave 
This soul of mine beset ! 

What mortal pangs poor man must bear, 

He e'en must sit and think 
That Fate has bound him to Despair 

And Misery forged the link! 

From out my soul forever fled 
What was my soul's dehght, 

Thy Spirit on its sweetness fed! — 
Sweet Poesy lost in night! 

January y 1909 



FOR A VALENTINE 

To you I send these lines of mine 
That you naay read and know 

That your bright sweetness doth entwine 
My heart with many a bow. 



81 



LINES 

Behold yon field, a solitary mass 
Of sheafed grain where I may walk to pass 
A contemplative hour, hushed at eve. 
While the sun's dying rays upshooting weave 
A glory round the clouds; while yet I feel 
The stirrings of a heart that doth reveal 
That one strange im}:)ulse that hath been a law 
Through my whole life — long time, so be it now. 
For turn soe'er I may, the light of day. 
The vision brealdng on a mountain-mist 
Of gold, the waterfall above the crest, 
High on the stony ramparts of the sky, 
Dark pools that in the vale incessant lie, 
All, all, inform my spirit with a Voice. 
Fall 1911 



MY HEART IS FILLED 

My heart is filled with sorrow's blood 
Now streaming through my side, 

A tempest wild, the gory flood 
Is ruining with its tide! 



February U, 1909 



32 



AS SOME PALE VISITANT 

Thou art as some pale visitant 
Descended from the starry night, 

About thee flows the cold distant 
Odors from balmy seas of light. 

Resolve thy self into some form 
Palpable to human mind, 

Or I shall die, whirled on the storm 
Of interest, created blind. 

October 17, 1908 



FRAIL STAR OF HEAVEN 

Frail star of Heaven thou dost shed 

An influence soft 
As music that hath been and fled 

On wings aloft. 

Eternal rhapsody of thought 

Breathest thou 
To me, until my soul is wrought 

To one sweet law. 

October 2Sy 1908 



33 



STARS 

Stars at night are bright, 
Thou art bright too, 

My soul is the dark night 
Which thou imbue. 

Stars are sweetest Love, 
Thou art Love true. 

Stars do constant prove 
Thou wilt Love, too. 



October 26, 1908 



ROSALIE'S LOVE 

Of all the winds that o'er the earth 
Do blow, and blow, and blow. 
The sweetest wind, is the wind that blows 
My Rosalie's love to me. 



34 



A SOFT WIND 

A soft wind 

On a (winter's?) day 
Blew these words 

And the song, my way. 



February, 1909 



"THE HOUR I MET WI' SUE" 

The skies were ne'er sae sunny, 
The skies were ne'er sae blue. 

The skies were ne'er sae bonny; 
The hour I met wi' Sue. 

Chorus 

The hour I met wi Sue, 

The hour I met wi' Sue, 
There ne'er was hour sae charming, 

*S the hour I met wi' Sue. 

We wandert in the evening, 
W^e wandert in the dew. 

We wandert deep in feeling. 
The hour I met wi' Sue. 

Tho' Life shall e'er bereave me, 

Tho' Life I daily rue, 
That Life shall ne'er yet grieve me. 

The hour I met wi' Sue. 

July 16, 1911 

35 



TO A DEAD BROWN THRUSH 

To a dead Brown Thrush^ that a neighbor killed 
for stealing his cherries. The cherries would not 
have made two pies, — bought with a summer's song. 

I know that thou art dead, I hear thee not, 
Thy carols that did sweeten early morn 
For one bright cherry, they were ruthless stopt, 
Perhaps it was for thine most latest born. 
I know that he hath hstened to thy song 
Like melodies made sweeter by the thought, 
I know that he hath never felt the wrong 
That he to thine, or me, by this hath wrought. 

O man, if thou wert more inclined to be 

A little thoughtful of who feedeth thee. 

Thou couldst not slay so wantonly. What harm, 

What injury, is thine.? All for alarm 

Of ruin, what not! Enough! That thou, sweet 

bird, 
Art dead is grief to me, by silence stirred. 

June 25, 1911 



36 



DEAD AND COLD 

This poem and the three following written between 
l:Wand2:30P. M. 

Dead and cold the cheek of Love 

Since Thou wert parted from my side 

Like the tender, stricken dove 
It has died. 

Dead forever is the fountain 

Of the wavy surges given, 
Of that Hght that built a mountain 

Thought to Heaven. 

Sealed the light and tongue forever 
Hope and joy, and aught but pain 

Till the languishing endeavor 
Brings thee back again. 

November 16, 1908 



37 



THE TIME IS NOT YET DEAD 

The time is not yet dead 
When we shall meet again, 

Or were it so, my heart 
Would die upon the pain. 

Tomorrow holds thy love, 

Hope doth dream and borrow 

All that child Fancy holds 
To crush this day of sorrow. 

Fate kisses down the lids 
That wake within my sleep. 

And softness creeps in breath 
To bid my heart not weep. 

And vainly seems the longing, 
Yet smiles o'er mount my tears 

And moments bring their shadows. 
Yet Hope o'er climbs my fears. 



38 






i 



CAN THE SONG BE SILENT 

Can the song be silent 
And the lute be dumb 
When thy presence shadows 
My soul, sleepmg numb? 
Never the waking 
Sweeter than this, 
Nor dream more continual 
Than thou in my bliss. 



HIGH THOUGHTS 

High thoughts burning 
In concepts zone 

Hath given thee Light, 
Surpassing thy own. 

O'er earth, o'er vision 
To Heaven above 

It lifts me up 

On pinions of Love. 



39 



THE SUN BREAKS GENTLY 

The sun breaks gently on those distant hills. 
And once again the flowers come to dwell 
Within that land for a brief space and die. 
'Tis spring and two are walking in the May 
Of Life, with looks, and lips that silent speak 
The eloquence of mute despair. 

'Tis past 
And once again my blood runs crimson-cold 
And once again I stoop to kiss the rod — 
And I have kissed the rod these many years — 
But late it seems as though my spirit fell, 
It seems, there is no God, no Heaven, nor Hell, 
Nor Life, nor Death, O would that thou wert 
here! 

December 16, 1911 



These forms of thine, O nature, I behold 
Are interfused in me a thousand fold. 

1911 



SPRING 

I hear, I hear, O Lord, I hear. 

Come from the mystic deeps thy voice, 
Return with the revolving year 

And all my Being cries, Rejoice! 



May, 1912 



40 



TO 



O rapturous vision of my soul, 

Ethereal spirit I behold, 
O'er this w41d surging heart preside, 

Burn swiftly through this burning side. 

October 3, 1908 



NO MORE WE'IX GO A-RO\ ING 

No more we'll go a-roving 

By the light of the silver moon, 

With the ]) right stars shining overhead 
That live and die so soon. 

We'll drink no more the sweet air 
In the balm of evening's cool. 

We'll laugh not, talk not, kiss not 
By the leaf -haunted pool. 

O that the world would fail, 
It would die upon a breath, 

Since Thou art gone and honey -dew 
Is clammy -cold like Death! 

September, 1908 



41 



WHITHER IS THE MUSIC FLED 

Whither is the music fled 
That once inspired my brain. 

Like starhght on the water shed, 
Will it ever be again? 

Whither are the visions bright. 
Like storm-clouds madly driven; 

A moment rolled before my sight 
With thunder-strokes of levin? 

In some bright world beyond our ken 
These things shall blend and be 

Like aught the dream of souls of men 
And innnortality. 

October 2, 1908 



4^ 



YE FLOWERS THAT COME AGAIN ON 
EARTH 

Ye flowers that come again on earth 
In springtime sweetly bloom, 

Turn back! O hide from me your birth, 
My soul is filled with gloom! 

How sweet were ye when we first met, 
How golden winged the hours, 

Now all your beauty's turned to jet 
And every moment lours. 

Dear little birds that sweetly sing 

And every pleasure waken. 
Ye know not what Life's morn may bring 

Ere dews of youth are shaken. 

Ye golden hours that I have lived 
In fondest Love's complainmg, 

How broken now, how torn and rived 
With my poor heart's disdaining. 

1909 



43 



FOUR YEARS 

Four years have passed and I have not forgot 
Thy smile, thy face, and Time has failed to blot 
Thy memory from the humble fields of thot. 
Four silent years, as Time is measured out 
To Man, yet an eternity of thot 
Is there, to me, and that is all I coimt. 

May, 1912 



A MEMORY 

Whatever things mine eyes have seen, 
Whatever dreams my mind has held, 

Whatever fields I've wandered in 
I know 'tis thee I've loved too well. 

'Tis thee alone — O do not think 
One word with me shall be regret, 

'Tis thee alone — nor do I shrink 
Or ask that I might once forget. 

October 10, 1912 



44 



DREAMS 

Memories of England loJiile working in the field . 

I stood beside the sea and watched the white ships 
Go sailing up and down, a fairyland 
Of dreams, white shrouds, and sailing ships and 
sky— 

October, 1912 



45 



SITTING IN THE SUN 

O blind mine eye forever be 

And hushed my voice, — forever still 

When in the sun I think of thee 

And that sweet time when Earth doth thrill. 

O happy youth, thus fleets away 

Thy golden charm. Ere thy full years 

Are sped, thy })looming, flush as May 

Wet with the dews of ho})eless tears. 

O deep is Death, yet deeper Life, 

We see but cannot understand. 

The flowers bloom, the warring strife, 

The lover in a foreign land. 

O bUnd mine eye forever l)e 

And hushed my voice — forever still, 

When in the sun I think of thee 

And that sweet time when Earth doth thrill, 

August 20y 1911 



POETRY 

I hold it from the hands of Him, who stars 
The firmament, and robes the night 
In pure celestial white — 



February 20, 1911 



46 



READING SHELLEY 

There is a season famed for poet's song. 

When dreams are bursting from the heart in 

throngs, 
And roaming T\dld, the phantom-eyed Dehght 
Chills, open dancing in the foamy light 
Of spring, and visionary voices })ring 
Sweet dreams of happiness, and forming rings 
The buds, and all frail, fair, sleeping things — 
The poet opes a book and visions writes therein. 

February 16, 1911 



AN INSPIRATION 

There's more of Death 

In a baby's breath 

Than a thousand swords of men. 



January, 1911 



47 



HOW CAN IT RAIN 

On hearing it whispered it icas raining out, one 
balmy night in unseasoned February. 

How can it rain when stars are bright? 
The very bahniness of whispering night 
Gives promise of a dawn as fair 
As ever winged the blue. 

It is the hour of night 

When calmness broods beneath the wings of 
sleep. 

February 16, 1911 



48 



. A KNIGHT'S HOMAGE 

There came a knock to a golden lock 

And a maid without upcried. 

They have stolen my roses, 

A fortune no more 

The love of my lowly pride. 

And a youth of lore, bound wed-locked o'er 

The moon-seared face of the child 

Leapt to the casement. 

Then to the ground, 

Lasht to the chord of a smile. 

And the maid unwed, and her heart unbled. 

Knew not the cause, nor why, 

But clung to him, 

Nor asked of more 

Her soul-wide famine cry. 

And the knight, in eyes of hushed skies. 
Gazed wath a knight's desire. 
And in their depths 
Saw a row of hills 
Clad in alabaster fire. 

And he quenched the flame, with a kiss that 

came 
Not from his errant heart. 
But out his soul 
His homage blew. 
This knight of the maiden's part. 



49 



MY NOTRE DAME 

My Notre Dame, my Notre Dame, 

The manna-bread of mine, 
Nor cease my thoughts, nor cease thy name 

A black-starred pilgrim's shrine. 

Not once in years, but in all hours 

Are after-thoughts of thee 
The fragrance of crushed blooming flowers, 

The hopes I dreamed to be. 

My Notre Dame, my Notre Dame, 

And Hfe will cease to be 
When ceased my thoughts, and ceased thy 
name. 

And ceased IVe turned to thee. 



50 



MY HOPES 

My hopes, my joys, my sorrows, 
I give thee for the asking, 
What my soul from night borrows 
I give thee too with gasping. 
If thou wouldst be Love only, 
No fault would find thee willing 
To leave my warm heart lonely 
When winter ^vinds are chilling. 

My heart, thy nest, thy cradle, 
And I to watch thee slumber. 
Night stars over earth daedal 
To guard thee without number 
O clasp me to thy bosom. 
My spirit faints, it falls, 
O clasp it while the fulsome 
Mild-rising spring enthralls. 

October 29, 1908-1913 



51 



PRESS THY LIPS TO MINE 

Sweet, press thy lips to mine and breathe. 
Though we know not what flows, 

Our Spirits met together weave 
Something, for thy cheek glows. 

Ask not, but ever look on it 
As something sweet and dread, 

Time will not, cannot alter it 
Though years shall find us dead. 

Ocioher 6, 1908 



DRINK DEEP 

Drink deep from mine eyes. 
They draw from my soul 

The spirit that lies 
Too deep for control. 

Draw naught from that fount 
But tenderest love, 

Pale visions that haunt 
Its depths from above. 

October 18, 1908 



52 



THE BONNY BOON 

Written on the banks of the Boon in Scotland. 

I too have roved by Bonny Doon 
Where oft the sweet birds sang, 

The rose-red flowers in breaking })loom 
In wildness round me sprang. 

The daisies glanced above the })ank 

Into the rippHng stream, 
That sunht kissed, and shadowed, sank 

Into my soul, a dream. 

The woodbine twining on the bough. 
The leaf-f)ressed waters flow, 

I mingled with the sweetest vow 
The human heart can know. 

1908 



53 



MONA WATERS 

No more by Mona's stream I'll ponder, 
By Mona's wave no more I'll wander, 
The flowers that bloomed so fair are dead; 
The sweetness from those banks is fled, 
Where I was wont to wander. 

How like my heart once happy stream, 
Bereft of all thy glory's dream, 
How like my heart in flowery pride, 
Now^ gasping stiff within my side 
Without one hope or gleam. 

O Mona waters lo\'ed I thee, 
My Mona waters swift and free. 
Thy flowery banks, alas ! Alas ! 
My Mona sweet 1 cannot pass 
But here lie down to die. 

January 23, 1909 



54 



O MAIDEN MEEK 

maiden meek, and mild, and fair, 

1 watch thee playing a soft air, 

And to my mind steals grace and light 
And gloom departs Hke fleeing night. 

If thou couldst play through all my years, 
My soul would cease to know those fears 
That parting Life and Death must bring 
Swift circling now on cloudy wing. 

January 29, 1913 



WHO HATH NOT WATCHED 

Who hath not watched the dying sun close o'er 
The forest green, and pass l)eyond the seas 
More distant than the ken of human thought. 

1912 



55 



*TIS SAID THAT MEN 

'Tis said that men grow mad when those they 

love 
Have taken passage on the flowing sea, 
Whose ever-constant ebb depopulates 
And makes decay of all humanity. 

1912 



DEAR WILHELMINE 

Dear Wilhelmine, dear Wilhelmine, 
With sparkling eyes like Rhenish wine, 
That in the sunlight or in the shade 
Reflect within the image made, 
Dear Wilhelmine, dear Wilhelmine. 

Dear Wilhelmine, dear Wilhelmine, 
Within the depth of those sweet eyes. 
Deeper than the summer skies 
I see VL\y heart doth still recline 
Dear Wilhelmine, dear Wilhelmine. 



56 



WORDSWORTH 

Written at Orasmere, England. 

Wordsworth ! when I beheld thy native hills 
And viewed the lowly cot that sheltered thee, 
I thought of pomp and pride, and all that fills 
The circumstantial paths of man. — Here see 
And know true greatness in its golden sphere 
And here behold the native strength of man 
And mind, in all its majesty as clear 
As Heavenly light that roiind its Being ran. 

He is the chosen whom the God hath given 
To lead his fellow-man, and he the noblest, 
Who living well, hath never thought nor striven 
Pride's A-aunting ground to gain, and he the 

lowliest 
Who serves his stewardship the best, who 

leaves 
Long unstained years, each crowned with gold- 
en shea^'es. 

July U> 1908 



57 



I MOUNTED STEPS 

On some stones back of Dove Cottage leading to 
an arbor, which Wordsworth had laid. Written at 
Grasmere, England. 

I mounted steps immortal hands had laid 
And mounting gave to Genius her reward, 

How inspiration sprung from bosom's shade 
Had left of other steps for my soul, un- 
starred. 

July U, 1908 



CALM AS THE SUNSHINE 

Looking over the city to the hills beyond, on 
a bright early morning. 

Calm as the sunshine on the hills of Love 
When every star in dewy slumber lies, 

Soft as the call of the meek-irised dove 
To me the sweets of this fair Paradise. 

Like some bright cloud unto my wayward eye 
The vision to my shadow-structured soul, 

About me lovely fields of glory lie, 

Full flowered, undisturbed, a precioui 
whole. 

Ajyril 22, 1909 



58 



SONNET 

When I consider what my hfe has been, 
What is, and what my prospects are, I feel 
Like one whose gifted eye has clearly seen 
The setting of a star, and through me steal 
The pulses of a god, but when I hold 
A converse with man's heart, its cause for tears 
A feeling less than godlike — less than cold 
Chill sweeps my soul, and blinds its end with 
fears. 

And then my soul cries to my Reason — Aid 
O thou ! and Reason sends upon the deep 
Her dove, and soon I hear, "Be not afraid 
There is a God, have faith in him and sleep." 
And so I turn upon a single thought, 
Man's ends grow less, they blight, and soon are 
naught. 



59 



WRITTEN TO THE MOOD 

O wake me to the world again, 
Some spirit from beyond, 

Dispel from me this cursed pain. 
Despairing to despond! 

Shake o'er me wings of brighter birth 
Than any yet I've known, 

O wake me with the mother earth 
When fields to flowers are blown. 

April, 1909 



"BABY" B- 



Reading Burns as a beautiful Trinity girl passed. 

I'll kiss thee in the spring, my dear, 

I'll kiss thee in the fall, 
I'll kiss thee through the whole long year, 

I'll kiss thee not at all! 

I'll kiss thee in the summer, dear! — 
When winter winds blow cold; 

I'll kiss thee not at all, for fear 
Thou'lt think me over bold. 

May 27, 1909 



60 



TO MISS 



WJio is this and more, a sweet, lovable girl with 
a nose she hates. 

My heart's so deep in love with Mollie 

'Twill not go twice together, 
There ne'er was such a girl as Mollie, — 

I think to be her lover. 

No heart so kindly, but 'tis Mollie, 

'Tis light as any feather. 
No e'en so tender e'en as Mollie, 

'Twill weep like weepy weather. 

There's none, has charms so sweet as Mollie, 

Her smile, 'twill light another. 
There's none can ere compare with Mollie 

In this world or one other. 

No rose so fair e'en but 'tis Mollie, 
While ling'ring winds round hover, 

I ne'er loved one like I love Mollie 
And I'll love but her forever! 

June 2, 1909 



61 



TRINITY 

Inspired by Trinity as I passed this murky 
closing eve. The doors and windows wide open, 
but all, all the girls gone. No sound near but a 
cricket in the grass. There is nothing that tears my 
heart like bleak barren ivalls, ivhere youth once ran 
warm and wild. 

The last, the loveHest now are gone, 
Forever from those halls are flown, 

No more upon the dewy lawn 
To wander in the eve. 

A pain has wov'n round my heart. 
Regrets and sighs like fountains start; 

Time cannot heal the aching smart 
Where memory must cleave. 

June 30, 1909 



62 



WILL-0-THE-WISP 

Her honey voice in lilting brings 
A note of sadness to my ear, 
And in the lowlands where she sings 
It is the blue-spring of the year, 
It is the blue-spring of the year, 
The time the meadow-marshes rise, 
When daffodils are hanging clear, 
Midway beneath the folded skies. 

All through the month of May she went 
In and out among the blooms. 
Weaving those of deepest tint, 
In many, many tiny plumes, 
And when the harvest time was come, 
She bound the grain about her feet, 
Went singing through the fields alone 
Where Life, sweet Life lay very sweet. 

It is the blue-spring of the year. 
With purple paths and misty morn. 
The scented lowlands far and near 
Are laden with a breath forlorn. 
It is the mellow-maiden year 
Where in the lowlands sleeps a maid. 
It is the blue-spring far and near 
And o*er the grave where she is laid. 



63 



O HAPPY HOURS 

O happy hours when we were twa 
And roamed the pleasant woods amang 
The birds wild-singing from the bough 
Thrilled every note to lovers sang. 

Now ceased those hours we twa hae loved 
As ever mortal lovers proved 
With smiles and glances unreproved 
By Heaven in those happy groves. 

May 8, 1912 



LINES 

These are the flowers of spring, and these 
Less happy ones, are later born. 
O little friends, a grief is yours 
Perpetual as the snows of youth, 
Thou never heard the spoken word 
Eternal through the universe 
Of things: — "Awake, triumphant sing 
The hand of God upon the bough." 

March 31, 1912 



64 



LINES 

There is an ecstacy of mind, 

A rapture kenned for lovers' souls, 

It is the kiss that secret binds, 

x\ffection's mutual thought that glows. 

May 21, 1912 



THE SEA MAIDEN 

There's a song upon the shore 
And a murmur on the sea, 

iVnd a comely maiden watches 
Where the shore receives the sea. 

Not an angel, not a fairy, 
But a fisher maiden sweet 

And the water gently murmurs 
As it ripples at her feet. 

She is queen of all the isles, 

She is queen of all the seas. 
She is happy in her smiles. 
She is gayer than the breeze. 

She is sunshine, she is laughter 
Where she moves along the bay, 

'Till the waves that follow after 
Come and spirit her away. 



65 



MISSOURI COON SONG 

A coon sat in a 'simmon tree, 
And that old coon, 'e looked at me 
And I looked at that coon, you bet, 
And Mr. Coon was 'simmon set. 

Now Mr. Coon, says 'e to me, 
"O Mr. Man, let us agree, 
I see that you have got me now 
For I am treed upon this bough. 

O let me to the water get 

And I will show you I can *fit'." 

;;0 Mr. Coon," I made reply, 

"That will not do, for you must die." 

And then I called the dogs for fun. 
Old Bess, and Tige and Lulu — One, 
And roimd that tree they swiftly ran 
And Mr. Coon they oft did scan. 

And then I shook that *simmon tree, 
And that, you bet, was fun for me. 
And soon we bagged that Mr. Coon 
And home we went in the bright moon. 

March 4, 1913 



66 



BETWEEN THE PLOUGH HANDLES 

The new rose blooms upon the thorn 
All-fragrant on this early morn, 
The redbird smgs high in the tree, 
And these are happy things to me. 

The sky is filled with sunset's glow 
And early evening breezes blow 
Across the pastures, and the deep 
Untrammelled silence brings me peace. 

From night and morn, from scenes like these 
Arises Nature's grandeur, ease. 
From flower to rose, from rose to morn 
The smiles of God this earth adorn. 

May 27, 1912 



WHILE PLOUGHING 

I dreamed of wealth, great open halls 
With marble markings, on their walls, 
And then I turned to simpler things. 
To that great heart which Nature brings. 

I smiled as o'er I pondered these, 
A fife of rest, vexatious ease; 
The other, native to the soil. 
An honest man, his God, and toil. 

May 29, 1912 

67 



SONNET TO KEATS 

Thou sweet Bird singing in the wilderness; 

Among the heathen hearts of men thy little son^ 
Thou lavisht with a lover's tenderness, 

And bore the insults of a taunting throng. 
Thy plaintive note no longer charms the skies, 

A Stranger passing, drew thee to his breast 
And calmed the sorrows of thy tender eyes 

And eased thy troubling to a gentler rest. 

What glory is there in the wreathe of Fame? 

Thy heart-torn notes were paeans to thy soul 
What matters it that thou hadst not a Name? 

Thy passions never ceased to surge and roll. 
Ah! there was comfort in that thought to thee 

Thou wert beloved of Immortality. 



68 



INSPIRED BY MISS 

The peer of all creation kind 

Is women, lovely woman, 
The balm, the joys, the woes of mind, 

Is woman, lovely woman. 

I see the morning spreading bright 

O'er smiling valleys fair, 
I watch the evening's way 'ring light 

Diffuse the noontide glare. 

But not by these is she compared 
Is woman, lovely woman. 

By all of Heaven's graces cared 
Is woman, lovely woman. 

thou by whom this theme inspired 
So graceful wanton carries, 

1 know by thee 'tis undesired. 
And here my nmse now tarries. 

July SI, 1912 



69 



THE THROSTLE'S SONG 

There breathes a wood wherein a tree. 
Lifts up its form majestically 
And in its tipmost branches there 
A song bird sings with blithesome air. 

It is a songthrush and he sings 
With choral sweetness as he swings, 
And when I chance to pass that way 
And Hsten to his lightsome lay 
I must believe, do what I will 
He has a mission to fulfill. 

A harmony breathed in a note 
Spun in a tilted throstle's throat 
Has stolen from a simple heart 
To scorn the voice that speaks of Art. 

It left me in minute survey 

Of all the thoughts at mind's display, 

To wander on in flooded mood 

In other paths of solitude. 



70 



ANOTHER YEAR 

Another year and we shall meet no more, 
The flowers that bloom beside the stream 

Shall welcome stormy winter's frost and hoar 
That once fed on so fair a dream. 

AjyrU 8, 1909 



AT NIGHT 

Oh lovely is the moon in trees 
Kissed by the midnight's l)almy breeze 
And lovely is the de^^y rose 
Sleep-rocked by wind in night's repose. 
And lovely too, the clear-starred sky 
Where nothing ever seems to die, 
Yet lovelier far thou all of this 
And sweeter far l)y one soft kiss 
Is she, whose Life is my estate 
Whose soul divine has been my Fate. 

May 6, 1909 



A RED BIRD SINGING 

O Red Bird singing 

On a tree bough swinging 

When all my senses waken to the world like 

a storm 
Thou canst not bring 
To the heart a spring- 
When the heart is dead from sorrowing. 

March 5, 1911 



SONNET TO A RED BIRD 

On hearuuj a Red Bird h}/ un/ bedroom irindow 
in early .sjtrini/. 

I hear thee gentle Bird this early morn 

I hear thee, hear thee with the gladness born 

Of spring. The pulsing ])lood of youth outruns 

The scarlet age. Wherein such fulness brings 

A retrospection born of sadder things 

And heaviness whose drug hath clogged sims. 

I hear thee, hear thee and a joy returns 

And momentarily through mj^ Being burns. 

Thou canst not bring old joys l^ack again. 

Thou canst not wake new hoi)es for old ones dead, 

Thou canst not cease the anguish and the pain. 

Thou canst not any of these do, for fled 

Are they, like the gold youth that fleets away. 

And all thy singing canst not make a May. 

March 7, 1911 

n 



SUMMER AND AUTUMN 

'Tis autumn once again returns 
With sunset skies of purest gold 
That round the Heaven's bosom hums 
My Mary hke it was of old. 

beaut'ous evening calm and clear 
Ere darkness gathered round the scene 

1 gazed on the thee enraptured, dear 
With little thought of Life's dark stream. 

Thy look, Time cannot banish e'er 

Nor mem'ry mar that sainted eve — 

The Autumn j)rospect deep'ning drear 

The cloud-like thoughts that ])arting weave. 

Mary in this human breast 

One sacred spot shall ever be 

The presence of an luiseen guest 

What thou wert, art, and still to me. 

The Autunm corn lies gathered round. 
The fields with purple light are sown 
And autunm murmurs beat the ground. 
Yet star-like thou art ever flown. 
O Mary, Death cannot forget 
That hour spent in parting love 
The agonjs the fever-fret 
'Twill live eternal bliss above. 



1911 



73 



THE ETERNAL DAWN 

I woke when the bright, bright dawn 

Struck on my sleeping eyes 
Woke in a bright, bright world 

Of beaming skies. 

Along the border of the world there swung a line 
There molded from the breaking light 

The sculpture of a hand divine 
Of mighty-handed Might. 

I followed in my breaking sleep 

That ceaseless line 
I followed till the boundless deep 

Engidfed me. 

Alone, upon the border-realm I stood 

Of ceaseless Wind. 

The vision of the world before 

Struck clear along my mind. 

It struck and pulsed this broken song — 

This broken song 

Upon my mind it pulsed along: — 

"There is no night upon the Deep 

No silent night — 

No night of broken sleep — 

No night that passes on — 

No thing, but an Eternal Dawn. 



I 



74 



GETHSEMANI 

O bear in mind that sacred song 

Come down through endless ages long. 

Remember you, Gethsemani? 

"Could you not watch one hour with Me? 

Recall how late the hour had grown 
He knelt beside the cold grey stone 
And near him were the faithless three — 
"Could you not watch one hour with Me? 

O bear in mind that sacred song, 
Nursed carefully through ages long. 
Remember you, Gethsemani — 
"Could you not watch one hour with Me?' 



THESE THOUGHTS 

These thoughts like flowers above the grave 

Bring back thy face to me; 
Thy voice — like sunset on the wave 

Across an ebbing sea. 

A maiden fair — not more nor less 
Than those round whom I move — 

Ah something yet thou didst possess 
The wondrous grace of Love. 

November 25, 1911 



75 



WIND AND WAVES 

Wind and waves and waters are 
Conipan ion pleasant-thoughtted 

Their loves, their smiles, their glances rare 
Too often pass unnoticed. 

November, 1911 



AFTER READING EUGENE FIELD 

The Heavens come down and kiss the hills 
And the hills reach up to Heaven, 

The depth of a child's heart, ah never fills — 
'Tis likest se\'enty times seven. 

Decemher 7, 1911 



76 



COME O'ER THE SEAS 

Come o'er the seas, come o'er the seas. 
Come o'er the seas, my sweet Ehnore, 

There's a castle awaiting by the waves a-mating 
On the rim of the wide seashore. 

Come saihng along, come sailing along. 
Come sailing along o'er the highhorn seas 

Hearken the meeting — sweeter the greeting — 
Thy coming through the mist I see. 

The woods a-dancing, the woods a-dancing, 
The woods a-dancing in the morning breeze 

All the waves a-sighing, all the waves a-dy- 
ing 
And my Elinore far o'er the seas. 

Come o'er the sea.s, come o'er the seas, 
Come o'er the seas, my sweet Elinore, 

How my heart's a-weeping, by the waves 
a-leaping 
On the rim of the wide seashore. 



77 



THE INFLUENCE OF NATURE ON LIFE 

Just over the hills Heaven kisses Earth 
The pale blue Heavens stoop and ever kiss 

The Mother earth, — It has been since my birth 
And ever shall be so — always a bliss. 

how far, far away that distant home 
And I upon the low step of those hills 

And in my youth the ranging blood to roam — 
I rather Life should be as one — who wills. 

It soon shall l>e the dark and I shall stand 
Upon those fear-clad distant hills alone 

1 then would be as one who holds a hand 

And rather now would wish to be led one. 



A MEMORY 

O do not ask tho' I should give, 
Unhappy silence is not Love, 

Tomorrow we must think and live 
Today, tomorrow, aye must prove. 

O do not let thine eyes implore, 
Oh bitter tears are hard to see 

The anguish and the closing o'er; 
The fate that severs me and thee. 

August 31, 1912 



78 



i 



ii 



TO MISS 



'Tis thee alone mine eyes behold 

Tho' others radiant round me throng, 

'Tis thee alone can fire my soul, 
Give to my heart its native song. 

O maiden couldst thou smile on me. 

What raptures wouldst thou kindle here. 

Within this breast, what pleasures be 
To find the day to day more dear. 

September 26, 1912 



A MEMORY 

She smiled on me as she stood there, 
The sunlight on her face and hair 
And O, the beauty and the grace 
Of Heaven, in that smiling face. 

'Twas likest even ere the sun 
Has touched the deeps, while radiant one 
Bright star hangs in a cloudy flame. 
All nameless for the want of name. 

July 22, 1912 



79 



TO MISS 

My Love, to thee alone, 'tis plighted, 
My heart, by thee alone, 'tis knighted 
No other can it pleasure gi^^e 
For thee alone I dare to live. 

The smiling earth by morn arrayed, 
Old Nature's seasons wide-display 'd 
Deep hold a place i^dthin my heart, 
But thou alone fiUest every part. 

August SO, 1912 



80 



WOMAN 

An island in a river and below 

A bar of sand, and below, the yellow curve 

Of a broad river flowing to the sea, 

x\nd stretching in a lazy length along 

The musing stream, a low green sward that dipt 

And dabbled dewy fingers from the marge. 

And pacing there, a maiden making moan 

Beneath the wild melodious moon that pierced 

The river with its sih^er beams — 

'*Adown, adown, he will not come 

Adown tonight. The yellow waves 

Are sleeping in the light. 

The silver moon is creeping from my sight. 

Adown, adown, — why make my piteous moan 

Beside a river flowing to the sea, 

Away, away, forever in the night. 

The night apace, — the stars — ^the moon — no more 

E'en God and I — no more — not he — why dwell 

Alone beneath the cold white sky?" 

Then came 
The morning sun, that fell among the drops 
Flung from the night's cool cup of wine that 

stained 
The Heaven incarnadine, and edges hung 
With purple hems — ^the dark-tinged streaks of 

Death. 
An island in a river, and below 
A bar of sand, and on the island stretched 
Her lover in the ghastly sun, his face 
Sweet-clothed in smile, and on the bar of sand 
A little further down — a lesser form 
And on her lips, and on her cheeks, the smile 
81 



That lurks when all is lost — below, the curve 
The yellow curve of water sickened dead, 
Beneath the burning sun, slow flowing down 
Into the sea. 



I DREAM OF THE SOUTH 

I dream of the South, 

The beautiful South, 

The South with its beautiful dreams; 

I place in my mouth 

A lute for the South 

And blow to its winds and its streams. 

I dream of that Land, 

That beautiful Land, 

The Land that is burning with Love; 

I give to that Land, 

From my hollowed hand 

A soimd like the croon of a dove. 

I dream of my Home, 

My beautiful Home, 

Where all of my pleasures meet; 

Ifhave'for that Home, 

Beneath the blue dome, 

A song that is cadenced sweet. 



82 



IN THE SHADOWS 

There's a cradle in the treetops as they reach along 

the lake 
There's a shadow of that cradle in the wavelet's 

playful break, 
Where the water-trees at dawn like an infant 

bud unborn 
Lie sleeping in the shadows of the silvery mist 

of morn, 
Where the shadows of the evening creeping out 

the scented west 
Go slipping from each wa^^elet to the vale of end- 
less rest. 
See the golden in the sk3% how it runs into a red 
And a crushed heart of bleeding o'er the water 

softly shed; 
See the stain across the treetops, see the rushlight 

fade to pink — 
See it pale into a purple as the shades of evening 

sink. 
See the bosom of the clouds, make a rift of filmy 

shrouds 
And a blood-red shaft of sorrow through the 

border swiftly sweep, 
Leap across the border to the lake of sweet Repose 
To the lake of mingled waters staining as it goes; 
Leap across the waters with a grace unsandalled, 

bold, 
Out across the waters sinking softly to a close. 

Love, steal across the waters, nay slip across the 

rim 
Nay hide within the shadows, and steal along 

with them. 



If singing in the shadows as they merge into a 
robe 

Let your song be one of Love, as you steal to this 
abode 

And I shall know your ^'oice by its music under- 
flow 

As you drift among the shadows, sweet, singing as 
you go. 



NOTRE DAME 

Remembrance of a walk af night at Notre Dame 
in June. 

O starlight on a summer's cloud, 
O silver beams, O Heavenly crowd, 
Of angels, weaving o'er this earth 
God's glory round onr humble birth. 

Descend on me, let me receive 
Thy precious calm, and on me leave 
A grace, a glory, and a light 
Like thine I now behold this night. 



Jidy 17, 1912 



84 



MY SOUL'S BRIDE 

O the red, red lips of a rose I caught 

In the verge of a vestal dawn 
As I paced by the side, of my blushing bride 

On a river-lit edge of lawn. 
As I paced by the side, of my lovely bride 

On the sweep of a lonely lawn. 

O a dark, dark path in the grass was shed 

Where we sank to the water's edge 
And we stood on the brink, where the sun- 
beams sink 
Like a shaft in the l)roken sedge, 
And we stood on the brink, where the sun- 
clouds hnk 
As they pour down a golden ledge. 

O the wild, wild lilt of a note I caught 

From the lips to a pearly lute. 
Ah! those red-lying lips, with their passion 
drips — 
How my soul was at last burnt mute 
By the hollow spun drips, of those throated- 
lips — 
And the cheeks by the pearly lute. 

O a bleak, bleak path to the edge low lies 

Where it slips by the running river 
And my soul is now shut, like a foam-coiled 
jut- 
But the river runs on forever — 
And my soul is now shut, like a bitter-worm 
nut — 
And will wake for its bride — oh never. 



85 



A MEMORY 

Sweet falls the evening, and the dews descend 
Upon those flowery paths and fragrant woods. 

And closing dark, the gathering Heavens bend 
When round those scenes with thee my 
memory floods. 

The early evening wanderers fill the sky 
The distant rising trees foretell a gloom 

The swelling anguish in my bosom, high 
All, all are aspects of an ordered doom. 

Juhj, 1912 



THE YEARS 

The years that slip from silence into shade 
Are left to me, the quiet even years 

In which they face starlike is set, inlaid 

With marble thoughts to chill the human fears 

July 17, 1912 



86 



TO MY MOTHER 

O Death, touch not that meek sweet flower 
I charge thee Death, — ^harm not that gem, 

It guarded me in every hour — 

And wouldst thou crush that slender stem? 

Her voice hath taught my Hps to pray, 
Her hand lay on my throbbing brow, 

Her heart hath been with me alway 
And dost thou think I'll leave her now? 

Her form hath waited at the door 
Whene'er my footsteps hngered long, 

My heart enriched and hers made poor 
And all that I can give — a song. 

No broken song that I might give 

Would last or live — l)ut soon dissever 

The tribute I must pay, is live 
That I may live with her forever ! 

O Death, touch not that meek, sweet flower 
I charge tlun^ Death — harm not that gem 

Yet, when thou must — may that sad hour, 
Keep fresh my soul like some sweet hymn. 



87 



SILVER DREAMS 

Pale blue di-eams that sleep about the silver moon 

Float and sleej), float and sleep, 
Softly, softly, tiny stars with silver shoon 

Only peep, only peep, 
Sih'er dreams all hidden in the elfin moon 
— Elfin moon 

Sweetly sleep, dark troubled breast, O sweetly 
rest 
Sleep nor wake, sleep nor wake 
\jO\e will steal to thee in milky opals drest 
15reathe and shake, breathe and shake 
On thy slee])ing soul balm from the piny West 

-Troubled breast. 

Silver dreams, ])ale silver dreams, and paling 
moon 
Kisses press, kisses j^ress 
Love has shaken o'er thy soul a silvery swoon 

Low, and less, low, and less, 
Sleepino- soul, O thou wilt live forever soon 

— Forever soon. 

1908 



88 



TO A TOAD 

"On seeing a toad while sitting on the porch 
tonight/' 

Unsightly creature to the human eye 

Just now projected on my thoughtless gaze, 
Thou sittest there quite unobtrusive, shy 

Amid the scanty grass and dying rays, 
A toad! a loathed thing! and some to think 

That poison, malice, envy bear thy name 
Unsightly evils drest, from which to shrink 

Nor know of any virtue to reclaim. 

Yet there is one, and I will be thy friend 
Defend thee to the world; thou never did 

Me harm, and I will vouch thou never hid 
Thyself from Him who made thee to an end 

In his creation plan, but serve full well 
Thy place; that hideousness to me dispels. 

July S, 1912 



FARE-THEE-WELL MY LITTLE LOVER 

Fare-thee-well my little lover 
We were met to part forever, 
Sweet our meeting — like the smnmer 
Pledging sighs where waters murmur. 
Brief our love — as leaves here meeting 
In the fall go palely fleeting, 
Fare-thee-well, our lives must sever 
Fare-thee-well, then go forever. 

Fare-thee-well my little lover 
Hands here clasped — unclasp forever. 
Had we never met so lightly 
We had never loved but rightly, — 
We were met hut to be parted 
Life is sweeter — broken-hearted. 
Fare-thee-well, our hearts must sever 
Fare-thee-well, then part forever. 

One soft press, my little lover 
Ere we part and pass forever. 
We were met but to be fated — 
It were weakness to part hated; — 
Thine be ev'ry showered l)lessing 
Life's enjoyments all possessing 
One soft press my little lover 
Fare-thee-well, then go forever. 

1908 



90 



THE WAND'RING SEASON 

The wand'ring season once again returns 
'Tis Autumn in her yellow weeds, that mourns. 
The distant prospect round unfolds the eye, 
The gathered corn, the stubble-field and sky: 
The rust'ling leaf betrays the hapless wood 
Where late the flow'ry bank of summer woo'd. 
While o'er the plain the distant rising moon 
Lifts chill and cloudless through the closing gloom, 
Yet dark, as e'er the scene around impress 
My bosom's anguish darker still than this. 
Some hope attends upon the gloomy scene 
The winter past 'tis spring — and flowers again; 
But O, terrific as my bosom fires 
In darkest night 'tis doomed and soon expires. 

July 8, 1909 



91 



GOODNIGHT 

Goodnight! and should it be goodnight forever 
more 

Wouldst Thou remember me, 
With thee, I found inhab 'table Life's ray less shore 

And sang at Destiny. 

July 29, 1909 



SCOTTISH DIALECT 

Misfortune's face sae dour and lang 
Hangs o'er me like somebody; 

I maun bid her gae alang 
And I'll gae to my toddy. 

The ugly hussie glowrin stan' 

Aboon my shouther wa' 
I maun charge her with my han' 

To gae wi' sic a fall. 

But oh misfortune hang aboon 

Howe'er we sputter-fume, 
Come, early, late, she'll come, or soon 

Contentie wi' sma' room. 

July 15, 1909 



92 



THE COTTON NOW IS BLOOMING 

The cotton now is blooming, o'er all of Dixie land. 
The darkies now are singing to banjoes in their 

hand, 
'Tis eve within the cabin, the moon shines from 

the door. 
On all the fields 'tis flooding, as in the days of 

yore. 

take me back to Dixie, 

leave me in that land. 
To close my eyes in Dixie 

Amid that happy band. 

The whippoorwills are calling, O caUing far and 

wide, 
The pickaninnies dancing, in dusk of eventide, 
And O my heart is turning to Dixie land, I love 
And on my head is falling, the dews from Heaven 

above. 



Chorus 



take me back to Dixie y 
leave me in that land. 

To close my eyes in Dixie 
Amid that happy band. 



93 



TO — 

Where art Thou now my lovely bride, 

No more shall I see thee; 
Wilt Thou no more by me abide 

Where once thou loved to be. 

The waves of Love were mine to give 
And thou the bosomed shore, 

No more do I desire to live 
Since thou art mine no more. 

January 16, 1909 



THE YEAR IS DEAD 

The year is dead, the dear old year 
And at its bier, I stood beside 

And marked its death, and brusht a tear 
And sighed, and sighed, and sighed. 



94 



ON READING TENNYSON 



Men in their prime, 

In every clime. 

Forging the world to God. 



Oh for some longed, and distant voice to come 
And pipe amid this world a Peace of Song 
And melt the tears fast chilling in my breast 
And cease 
The wild, wild wrong. 

Januaryy 1911 



REFRAIN FROM KATHLEEN 
MAVOURNEEN 

Why art thou silent, O my heart, 
Why art thou silent, must we part! 
O Love will come when least we know 
And like the faded roseleaf blow 
When summer wanes, and we are left 
Rude, passionless and all bereft. 



November 9 y 1911 



95 



COMMEMORATION 

This is the fairest day that ever bloomed 

In any land or dime; 
The fairest of them all, and unassumed, 

The glory and the prime. 

'Twas on this day that thou and I were met 

And face to face we stood, 
And I gazed in on thy soul's loveliness 

And felt the power of good. 

There is a love that does not die with Death 

Nor ceases, but moves on, 
Conceived with all the soul's immortal breadth 

Beloved such was one. 

And when the years have ceased their surging 
roll 

And death shall tide the main, 
Thou still shalt find the haven as of old; 

One Love shall still obtain. 

March 8, 1911 



96 



A BEAUTIFUL DAY 

O lovely day, still lovlier yet 

The flowers, sun, and thy sweet face 

Up-smiling, in a land thick-set 

With dreams, and filled with Heavenly grace. 

The hard hand toils, the mind dreams on 
The spirit falls, the heart inclines; 

But lovely day, thou still my own — 
I somehow to the rest resign. 

October, 1912 



A MEMORY 

thou to whom my heart is given 
Thou every joy this side of Heaven, 
I, wandermg here, still, still adore 
And agonizing Fate implore. 

Thou unloA'ed sun that seeks the west, 
Thou wandering bird to night addrest, 
Thou barren sky, thou leafless tree, 

1 mourn a hapless fate with thee. 

November, 1912 



97 



TO MISS SINGING 

I heard her sing and Life and Death 

Both vanisht from the earth. I climbed 
The heights to Heaven, amid a wealth 
Of bright emotions sweetly twined. 
December 3, 1912 



A MEMORY 

These little things were thine my love, 

These household cares, thy touch 
Was here, and here thy form did move, 

that I loved so much ! 

This daily bread, O thanks be given 

ToHim that givethall! 
It hath a sweetness likest Heaven 

1 thought *twould be like gall ! 

December, 1912 



98 



SACRED HEART CHURCH 

One grey tower rising to the sky 
A golden cross 
Anchored in the clouds. 

Eight grey spires lifting not so high, 

Sentinels to 

That tower in the sky. 

Four pinna<;les rearing nobly by 
The tower clock 
Chiming to the clouds. 

Two steeples, twins, standing nigh 
Outposts and grey; — 
Relics draped in shrouds. 

Grey walls, rising stone o'er stone, on high 
Parapets in story — 
Sacred Heart, and sky — 



ONE TRUE HOME 

Man hath but one true home, the grave 

There all his sorrows blend, 
There o'er him flowers silent wave 

To mark his end. 

There in his sable mantle clad 
His joys all-crowned at last 

Forgot the whirring world, and mad 
Forever past. 

There wmtry winds blow cold and keen 
He sleeps, nor feels them not, 

There satire from the tongue and pen 
Increase his lot. 

Let Fortune smirk above thy sod 

Secure beneath, thou rest 
Await the reveille of God 

Amid the blest. 

November 25, 1911 



100 



WHERE ARE THE HOPES 

Where are the Hopes that once were mine? 
As rose leaves shattered by the wind 
Within the tomb of dying year 
My Hopes, my dreams, in sepulcher. 

Forgive not any hand that harms 
The first red rush of youth disarms; — 
Alas for youth ! so nobly bred 
That it must come to a bowed head. 

December 8, 1911 



BONNY WAS THE HOUR 

O bonny was the hour 
And bonny was her een. 
And happy we were then. 
As any twa hae been. 

Now winds come frae the deep, 
And sleep o'er waters, dreary, 
That Death seems one to greet. 
Since thou art no my dearie. 

March 9, 1912 



\&i 



FRAGMENTS 

I 

Thy passing like a shadow fell 
Upon my soul — ah it were well 
That thou and I hadst never met 
Since Love must leave us fever-fret 
And fears — no — welcome is it all. — 

II 

Thou art a soul on visions fed. 
That shimmers with translucent light. 

Ill 

What semblance dost thou claim to me — 

IV 
What summer meets the visioned dream — 

V. 

The light that breathes immortal flowers. 

VI 

Speed swiftly night the hour 
When we shall meet again 
Love breathes on me a dream 
With balmy sweets of pain — 
The violet drinks of dew 
Night winds kiss still the leaves 
The stars — 

VII 

Thy presence to my senses brings 
Sweet dreams such as night discloses 
In— 



102 



VIII 

October! when thy sad raiment draws 
Low musical mourning from the deep 
Intonal measures of my soul 
At that strong Power which makes thee wee[). 

IX 

Frail flowers — sweetness was thy lo^'liest 
charm. 

X 

Thou art as an unseen Power singing — 
Thy voice through my soul is winging 
Its spiritual flight — 

XI 

November cold and chill, thou hreathest melan- 
choly — 



103 



ONE BY ONE 

On reading of the death of aviator, Eugene Ely, 
at Macon, Georgia. 

One by one they go 

Swiftly and silent pass 
Each to his grave below, 

A crusht and broken mass. 

Heroic souls that dare 

Man's conquest to prove 
A vision, attendant rare, 

Lures with a fatal love. 

Their names, blood-carved in glory 
Flame — fills the western sky. 

The crags age-stained and hoary 
Alone, with these shall die. 

October 19, 1911 



104 



KIND THOUGHTS 

Kind thoughts from natures blest like thine 
x\re simple things that breathe true Love 

And like the stars encircling shme 
Within the world in which I move. 

The gifts of God — the smiles, the tears 
Of Life, the sunshine and the calm 

Were thine, to still the human fears, 
Yes, simple things, but O their balm. 

January, 1912 



I HAD A WISH 

I had a wish but that is past 
I had a dream — 'tis now no more 
Both vanisht, and a closing door 
Rings in my ear, a world's outcast. 

Outcast! not one to bless, not one 
To greet with smiles, and happy tears; 
The future full of l)itter years ! — 
My vine a withering in the sun. 

December 8, 9, 1911 



105 



THIS SPOT 

In memory of Sunday evening. May 30, spent 
with three girls from Trinity , beneath these trees, 
beside this brook. 

This spot last held thy matchless grace, 
Here I saw last thy beaut 'ous face, 
Ere we were parted since. 



This brook that now its channel frets, 
And rising round the greensward wets, 
And whistling birds, bring deep regrets 
In truest Love's defense. 

June Jf, 1909 



THE FIELDS ARE GREEN 

The fields are green, ah very green, 
The birds rise whistling once again, 

But round my heart the floods have l)een 
Since last I wandered o'er this plain. 

Where art thou now beloved soul 

What haven of rapt'rous joy is thine. 

There music must forever roll, 

And there must love be love divine! 

June 12, 1909 

106 



A GLORIOUS DAY 

A bright glorious sunshiny day, of wind a7id sun, 
and trees and youth. In memory of a picnic party 
with three Trinity girls. 

O youth, thou art a glorious thing. 
With strained nerve and lovelit eye 

With bated breath and wearied sigh, 
Alas, why must thou die ! 

O heart, heart, heart 

Beat, beat, beat 

A thousand throbs in one 

Of love, and Hope, and Hope and Love 

i\nd Life so sweet begun, 

Fair youth shall never die! 

May 30, 1909 



107 



BROKEN GLEAMS 
JUST WHERE THE MOON CLOUD- 
HIDDEN BEAMS 

At night watching the moon high in the sonth. 

come again thou lovely moon 
Go not behind the clouds, 

1 love thee in the open sky 
Not draped by murky shrouds. 

I watch thee glide through broken rifts, 
A moment lighting all, 
Thou reignest in the balmy night 
Queen star, immortal! 

June i, 1909 



MOLLIE 

There's none has charms like Mollie 
If she could only love me, 

I'd feel myself divine 
As angels are above me. 

' I asked to be her lover, 

She said I might deceive her, 
I'm sure if I could win her, 
I'd never think to leave her. 

June 2, 1909 



108 



TO i^nss — 

The charms of mind of womankind 
Are centered all in thee, 

Those graces rare that make us fair 
In thee do all agree. 

The Pleasures bright that all deliglit 

WTierever they may go 
Do meet in thee and happy flee, 

In glances to and fro. 

The tender cares, that woman bears 

With sweet gentility 
Are thine alone to gift a home 

AYith deep simplicity. 

December 30, 1912 



109 



TO THE SEASONS 

Swift be thy messengers of flight, Time, 

Swift be they now. 

The seeds that soon to azure bloom shall blow 

Are lockt in rime 

And snow, and frost, and hoar, Descend Thou 

And swift unbind 

Their fastness, tell the sphered-music rhyme 

Of Spring shall flow. 

Most musical of seasons, thou behind 

The midnight one. 

They come, each trailing glory like the sun 

To thee, yet blind 

Soon shall they lead thee forth in unison 

O'er all the earth. 

To fill with Life all things — O pregnant wind 

They come, they come ! 

Swift be thy messengers of Death, O birth, 

Too, soon descend 

And half-inclining let the poppy bend 

To drowsy mirth 

And all her sisters round her sleepy wend 

With nodding eyes, 

TiU kissing folded in the arms of earth 

That be their end. 

January 21, 1913 



110 



SITTING IN THE SUN 

This day is calm, and warm, and on me falls 
An influence that creeps into my blood, 
And feeds the impulse of a Being, tuned 
In mind, and soul, to all that lies about. 
I sit here and a breeze, not more than known 
Now wanders in the leaves, and sounds far off 
Come droningly within my ear, I hear 
The cicada high-winding from the tree. 
But o'er these feelings here imprest by sense 
Is one, impressed by silence and the sun 
Upon my person in this noonday heat. 
My mind expands, and the invisible 
Influences that Nature doth invoke. 
On those who love her and who will receive 
Her nurturings are mine, a thousand fold, 
They lift me by a reverence to thoughts 
Of high conceptions of a universe 
Involved, of duty, and of man, and God. 

October 18, 1912 



111 



BENBOW 

On seeing a postcard sea scene, of a child at a 
window watching a ship, on a chill day. 

When ships came in across the seas 
And on the western window panes 

The sunset weaves, its wintry sheaves. 
Then O my heart for homeland grieves. 

The storm far reaches in the night 
And roaring, wastes its fitful spite, 

Then blazing round the ingle bright 
Ah, happy is the happy night. 

But Oh ! some pain with these must go 

When dreaming, homeward points the bow 

And sunset shadows still the glow 
Of faces at the old Benbow. 

October 8, 1911 



112 



THE SILVER CHORUSED BELL 
I 

that you were full 
Of stony-hearted deceit 

When I had crowned you Queen 
Crowned you above the sordid beat 
Of Time! 

II 

The dream I held in my heart of you 
Was nobler than my inner self. 

1 saw the passions of the baser man 
Become the light of purer laws. 

I saw your glory like a crowning-star 
High overhead, through span on span 
Of the mystically woven gossamer. 

Ill 

O wert thou crowned in Heaven, — 

Stray beam from a broken star ! 

Or art thou one of the wandering sev'n 

That thou mayst make or mar.^ 

So I should rage with anger — 

Discharge a bitter speech 

Curse thee and the infant thing 

And say that the curse had healed the breach; 

Curse thee and thine forever 

'Till the sun is drowned in the stars 

And nothing is left that ever 

Was human, or blacked by human desires. 



113 



IV 

The whole night long the marshland sleepers 

waking 
Call after call announce that Spring is breaking, 
O will the world not ever drink its fill 
Of the great spirit-feeding Master- will! 



Year after year the gentle swelling fills 
My heart, my hopes, the bosom of the hills, 
I feel the south air rushing warmer, warmer, 
It fans my cheek and onward stronger, stronger, 
Do all my pulses beat till I no longer. 
Upbraid them for her many-wintered slumber. 



The year is mellow in the bud. 
The honeywafted spray of spring 
Falls round me like a gentle flood 
And Letheward all my fancies wing. 

It is the soft reverbrant spring 

When buds and blossoms waking 

White cheeks to cheeks in kisses cling 

In tendernesses mute. 

When the rain-washed wild cherry bloom 

Is one delicious long perfume. 

And every milk-veined chalice holds a tear. 

VI 

Just now a bee came wandering in 
My casement window 
With the soft breeze of spring. 
I watched its ponderous bulk 
114 



Poised on so delicate wing 
Here seeking for the flower— 
I marvelled that so little thing 
Was close onto a Power! 

VII 

Why am I, such a paltry thing — 

Littler than the worm, that crawls 

Why must I here bruise and beat my wings 

Behind invisible walls? 

One moment in the light I seem to stand 

And then a darkness comes o'er sea and land, 

My Life is full of murmuring 

And I am such a little thing 

That I have sometimes wished to break 

The half -worn strand. 

VIII 

What is this Spirit feeding 
The brain and every living fibre? 
O will we never know; it moves 
Like fiery floods along my veins 
It smiles on all the pure heart loves 
It pleases or it pains. 
In the long years gone by 
In the long years to come 
The glory and the dream 
Has been, will ever be the same. 
O Christ who promised much 
Our lot is a little thing 
Lighted only by the touch 
Of thy great suffering. 
Ah Christ! if we 
Could only for a moment cling 
To some departing soul! 
115 



IX 

I whispered to the great oaks 
That shade our favorite walk 
I love her, love her, love her, 
Will she prove false! false! false! 
The wind among the leaves 
Echoed, false! false! false! 
But I will not leave her 
For all their pattering talk. 

X 

It has left me better, stronger, 
That weak passion is no longer; 
Nothing now could move me ever 
Not an angel starred in Heaven 
Incense-smiling, breathing-rapture, 
Passion-clasped, nor Time to sever 
Us here, or in the long hereafter. 

XI 

O heart of mine that's waking 
Thou shouldst be slumbering low. 

Why art thou dreaming of the laurel 
When thy true love is the pine bough. 

O hearts that lie in sepulchres 

Like bleached and whitening bones, 

Where were your own true loves 
When ye were hearts of stones.'* 



116 



XII 

it were sweet if it were love 
And not this foolish flaunting. 

If in my brain 'twere interwove 
With all its madness haunting. 

If she were not a bold deceit 

With ample feelings turning, 
If she were not a roguish cheat 

With red-lip passion burning. 

If it were love with mellow surges 

Tjke slow sweet spring arising, 
When the whole Being melts and merges 

Our souls were one devising. 

Ah! fool at heart, and maddish dream 

The babble and beguiling, 
Yet it be true if it but seem — 

The clouds of shadow smiling. 

j\[y folly prates, — when youth and hope 
The blood and spirit mingling, — 

Recall to action and the scope 
Of the new- world near, tingling. 

XIII 

1 held thee in my heart, my coral rose, 

I kissed thee in the eve, at night 
And first when the I^ve-slar goes 
To sleep in the arms of her own true Love 

I kissed thee, — I loved thee with all my 
might. 



117 



XIV 

A college full of girls 

And I see them every day 

And she the fairest of the happy rout, 

She the Queen with downcast pout, 

With baby smiles and eyes of softest l)lue. 

She was a cheat out and out — 

She the fairest of all the girls — 

She a cheat, — they are all cheats, I say, . 

XV 

I gave my heart's since rest thought; 

I held it honor due to Love 
My heart was ruined — traj^like caught 

Yet I am what I dare to prove. 



118 



XVI 

I gave my heart's divinest blood 
To flesh my soul's supremest dream 

Could it prove less a ruining flood; 
I deemed it all that it might seem. 

XVII 

One silver-chorused bell has been my fate 
Whose beauty like a star-dilate 
Communioned with my soul, 
Slow-sapped the manhood strength I bore 
So left my spirit galled and sore, 
To heal a better whole. 



119 



XVIII 

Tonight I watched the full moon rise 

Slow-burning through the clouds. 

Far to the South, low in the sky, 

It seemed to promise much of good, 

O will it ever be — 

The world as I could wish 

Then I should feel again her own sweet blood 

Warm me to Life and Hope! 

Sprijig, 1909 



COLUMBIA 

No Spartan tube, no Attic shell. 
No lyre Aeolian I awake 
'Tis Liberty's bold note I swell 
Thy harp Columbia, let me take 

Burns — 

Columbia stands ! see where she stands 

Surrounded by her Empire floods, 
Her Iviberty enlightening lands 

Her Freedom-born majestic moods! 
Behold her, scattered sons of man 

To every clime addrest! 
Beliold Colinnbia half the Heavens scan 

The A^irgin Empress of the West! 

You British lords of Earth 
Who strove to force the tyrant's chain 
About her infant throat 
While yet within the cradle of her birth, 
120 



Who since have laughed to scorn her will 
Behold her now, behold Columbians train 
And scorn vour fill! 



II 



Columbia see! Columbia sweet. 

There, o'er the waters stealing 

From every nation Freedom's feet 

To thy protection reeling! "" 

Receive all with thine open arms 

Their life-blood is a glorious thing 

Ten thousand fold shall be the charms 

In tribute they to Thee shall bring ! 

Ill 

Not thine the fore-lord songs of old 

Nor thine a rotten-blooded line 

Nor customs wari)ed; but Manhood's arm 

and bold 
Strong-shadowing thy snowy side 
In youthful, mighty prime! 

IV 

Unwedded Goddess of the Eagle Realm 
Enthroned within the beams of thine own 

burning rays, 
Keep thou thy starry throne serene 
In virgin-glory loved Queen 
Alone, stand, stand alone 
Thou wast not born a despot's slave, 
Thyself alone canst dare to brave; 
Stand, stand alone. 

Remember thou w^ert once a prey to spoil 
121 



Think not those hands would now disdain to 

soil, 
Stand; stand alone, thyself alone canst save! 

Let other nations twine their arms in Love 
To bear the sacred olive Peace 
But thou, keep thou thy nest a brooding dove 
She is the fitter emblem, of thy Ixjve's in- 
crease. 

Columbia fair! 

Thy proudest boast is not in vain! 

See gathered round thy emblem of the skies 

Thy children chanting harmonies 

Of one true Paradise! 

Land of the free, heart-home of the brave 
Far-stretching fair, from wave to wave, 
From summer suns to northern storms 
Thy rock-bound valleys safe in alarms, 
O never let injustice creep 
Beneath that banner streaming high 
But bid it eagle-oared forever sweep 
The oceans of the sky! 

Ye Heavenly Powers that dwell above 

In unison both great and strong, 

Who judgest man for acts of liOve 

And subtle dark intriguing wrong! 

Whose strength, and guidance I implore! 

Thy blessings on Columbia I invoke: — 

Give her thy justice, stern, unbending ire, 

Teach her thy mercy's unavenging stroke, 

Her children thrill with patriotic fire 

To guard, defend, against Oppression's yoke! 



n^z 



And O, forget not, in thy grace divine, 

To teach them when they sing Columbia's 

praise 
To chant her Glory, as the will of thine 
That she may ever be revered and long her 

days ! 

Nov. 16, 17, 18, 1909 



ON LEAVING SCHOOL 

The summer sun shall woo again the flowers 
Gay-spreading in the fields and balmy bowers, 
But thou alone shall greet the rising day 
While far from thee forgotten I must stray. 

O nevermore to see thy face again 
That charms me still within the midst of pain. 
Far, far away no wandering thought shall be 
Though I should sometime wish a thought from 
thee. 

May 2S, 1909 



TO POESY 

O Poesy! sweetest child of Heaven 
Divine in every lineament, 
Thou whom to mortals once art given 
Art Life and God and pure Content 
To gaze within thy beamy eyes. 
To touch thy velvet — 

123 



SONNET 

The gladsome beautj^ of the season wakes 
Along the streams, the bees are driven down 
The gale to many a tufted bloom in brakes, 
Far widely strewn; I hear the piping clown 
His oaten lute make draw all Nature sounds 
Where waters murmur in the afternoon, 
All sunny in the dancing eddy rounds 
Till swelling past they die with swoon on 
swoon. 

Too late; the season soon shall wake to find 
The cheek of Love as fair as the soft wind 
That winnows through the golden hair of Spring 
No more, a melancholy grief shall bring 
On arbor, fruit tree and the vine, a deep 
Autumnal color while the dancers sleep. 



INSPIRED BY MISS 



If there's a spot on earth that's Heaven 
'Tis woman's })reast when man is driven 
By every storm Life's ocean wields 
'Till to a silent fate he yields. 

His strength, his stay, his guardian child 
Her Faith unbounded dark eyes mild. 
Uplifts again the glorious plan 
The Godmade, fearing, humble man. 



124 



GLIDE ON SWEET RIVER 

Glide on sweet river as ye will 
But O my beating heart be still, 
And on your bosom sunbeams play 
But winter frosts be mine in May. 

Fair flowers bloom above the stream 
And blushing deeply, deeply dream, 
Ye birds from leafy bowers make call 
But let me be where dead leaves fall. 



NOW STORMY WATERS 

Now stormy waters round me rave 
And silent close above my grave 
I have, nor Hope, nor Life, nor health, 
Not e'en the cursed smile of wealth. 
O might some Love on earth be found 
To still the thoughts that piercing wound, 
O through and through my breast they drive 
Till I might A\dsh to cease to live. 

O he who sings, can never still 

The beating of his guilt or ill; 

Some others smiling round declare 

The basest hearts are free from care. 

But he alone, the poet soul 

Is made to weakness and control, 

A moment driven into hell 

And then in Heaven he seems to dwell. 



125 



INSPIRED BY MISS 



I sing of spring, and flowers, and earth, 
Of sunshine, and of joyous mirth, 
Of sorrows, and of broken hearts 
And Faith that heals the broken parts. 

And Peace hke that within the sky, 
When robes of even drifting high 
O'er all the western world are flung 
Is mine, that this sweet Fate has sung. 



THE HOLINESS OF LOVE 

Serene and beautiful our Hves 
Here in this high and holy place, 

Inwoven hei*e by Paradise 
And suffering and grace. 



126 



O WHY SHOULD I 

O why should I give way to care 

And agonize in wild despair, 

This fleeting breath rolls through its gate; 

Each flower blooms to meet a Fate. 

O dark my bosom wildly rave, 

While stormy waters round me lave; 

The parting eye no dream hath ever 

Returned of hope of Love forever. 

Still deep the simple current flows, 
Where woodland flower faintly blows 
By castle wall or steep on steep, 
Down murm'ring onward to the deep. 
Is there no hope to fallen gi^en.^ 
Is there no rose that buds in Heaven? 
No rising morn when darkness clings.^ 
No Peace for anguish, being brings.?^ 



127 



ONLY THE DEAD SHALL RISE 

Only the dead shall rise, 

Only the broken-hearted sing 

Only in Paradise 

Is there release from suffering. 

IVIy tears have lightened not 
The woes of heart I darkly feel, 

I must abide my lot, 

And this is all I know, to kneel. 

Time heals not any wound 

Only a change comes o'er the heart. 
The balm, we dream 'tis found, — 

O see again the bleeding start. 

Only the dead shall rise 

Only the broken-hearted sing 

Only in Paradise 

Is there release from suffering. 



COMPOSED WHILE PLOWING 

The flowers are spreading through the grove 
The birds are singing from each tree, 

The whole of earth is whispering Love 
But no one whispers love to me. 

There's not an eye that flashes fire 
There's not a face that smiling brings 

Another wish to my desire, 

Or light the gloom Life round me flings. 



128 



mSPIKED BY MISS 

A rose of lovliness she came, 

And round her glowed the health of youth, 
And dark her eye with modest shame 

Her look the godliness of Truth. 



INSPIRED BY MISS 



Through every grove the flowers are blooming. 
And every fragrant bush doth tell, 

That every heart some Love is wooing, 
While Spring is dancing down the dell 

The birds from every bough are tuning 

Their simple notes to artful lays, 
While the soft breezes are pursuing 

The violet with her tender gaze. 

So I, sweet maid, these words am twining 
Around thy wild inspiring name. 

That thou may know my Love is binding, 
However flickers fortune's flame. 



\9I9 



INSPIRED BY MISS 



Ever loyal, ever Lillian, 

These my thoughts shall always be 
Till the dark, the drear obhvion 

Of the grave shall close o'er me. 

Smiling eyes forcast the weather. 
Hers, the steady beat and true; 

Mine the resolution whether 
I am man to meet them too. 

Am I devil? am I man? — 

Steal these thoughts, through all my 
brain 
Till I languish o'er the plan, 

God ordained for our soul's gain. 

Ever loyal, ever Lillian, 

Noble words, if noble be. 
Heaven opes above oblivion's 

Shadows round the grave for me. 



IN THE SPRING 

O let it be in kindness said 

Since we are parting now for aye, 

The one last word be softly sped 

While the spring-moon slow drops away. 



1913 



180 



PREFACE TO PHILOSOPHICAL 
MEDITATIONS 

The author of what is written in the following 
pages wishes to say that he has written indepen- 
dently. The thoughts there arose in his mind, 
they were pleasing and acceptable to him, and 
he jotted them down, and lately he has thought 
to publish them. His only defense of them is 
that they are true to his feelings. 

March 17, 191S 



181 



PHILOSOPHICAL MEDITATIONS 

BEGINNING 

To my mind the proper study of Philosophy 
should begin with the examination of those things 
first, with which it is vitally concerned. Order 
is the rule of existence. So the consideration of 
Philosophy should begin with the least postulate, 
and rise by order through reason to the highest 
evidences of human intellect and conception. 

Void was in the beginning. So I think the 
Philosopher who considers the relation of mind 
in man, and God, should return to the vaguest 
reality of existence. All knowledge is from ex- 
perience. Now the vaguest reality I can return to, 
by the only way in which I can know anything 
(viz. experience) is nothing. That which is noty 
and is. In seeking the vaguest reality of self, 
through experience of the least, which it can per- 
ceive concerning itself, the mind reverts to the 
state of nothing as far as is possible. Now I hold 
it true, as being a proposition that is and cannot 
be, at the same time, that the mind cannot rele- 
gate itself to an absolute state of nothing, by 
virtue of the fact that to do so would deprive it 
of the power to do so, viz. nothing being a state 
of non-existence, the mind in that state would 
have no experience, it would annihilate itself, 
which would be a paradox. Experience is con- 
comitant with existence only. 
19S 



Then the nearest approach to its original 
source, the mind can obtain is marked by its 
nearest approach to nothingness, or to that state 
which was its before it came into existence, which 
I think as far my knowledge has experience, to be 
in the mind of God. 

Now, as I conceive, the proper manner in which 
to approach this state is to divest the spiritual 
nature of its physical one. The clouds then that 
hover about our mortal sight, will be dissipated, 
and the soul will stand on a mountain of vision 
perceiving all things, that are within the power 
of human comprehension. The soul will perceive 
there the Alpha and Omega of known human 
existence within the limitations of finite concep- 
tions. Nor to me can the mind of man rise 
above this, for here the intellect perceives the 
Heaven from whence it comes, and understands 
its future abode. The soul rises like a star, com- 
munes with its Maker on the inaccessible heights, 
and floats through eternity hke a mist over chaos. 
In this state the mind is awake, through soul-per- 
ception of an Infinite. This soul-perception is 
the first evidence of kno^^Tl existence. Since this 
is soul-perception we may ask, what is soul? 
Soul as I conceive it, is the manifest w^ill of God, 
involving all human attributes. More than this 
I cannot perceive until God reveals his nature. 
Perception here is used in the accepted term, of 
what ever comes into the mind that the mind 
1S4 



acknowledges of having received, by virtue of its 
admission. This, I think, completes the discourse 
on Beginning. 



135 



LIFE 

Now that our ship has been built and rigged, 
let us launch it, and venture forth on the great 
sea of Life. Let us unfurl the sails of thought 
and wafted by the breezes of imagination make 
for every harbor and cave about this illimitable 
sea. These waters are lighted by God, and if we 
will gaze, always standing in the shadow, His 
light will penetrate every crook and inlet, every 
cavern and dark passageway, spill itself over 
every forest and green shore, so wonderfully, that 
no labor shall ])e ours, but to jot down the beauti- 
ful things we see, their fitness and harmony, their 
sweetness and reasonaljleness. 

If on the contrarj^ we sail into this Light, we 
cannot but lose our bearings, to drift wanderers, 
until stranded upon some barren island of human 
persuasion, our ship battered and scarred, our 
sails riven, hopeless and helpless, to remain 
forever there withhi the narrow confines of unin- 
spired reasoning. 

The beginning of all Philosophy is Life. Wlien 
I coi^«?ider Life I seem to see something as in a 
dream. Life is the greatest of all phenomenon 
and upon application of my mental powers to it, 
all other phenomena passes away, and it is left 
alone for me to observe. And upon observation 
of it steadfastly building, from that place where 
I stood before, still on without rest, until death, 
136 



do I think of a man as educating himself. 

It is the duty of the Philosopher to observe 
Life, and to set down his understanding of its 
source, its modifications, influences, and govern- 
ance, in fact all that the mind is capable of per- 
ceiving about it. It is the duty of the scientist 
to analyze it, to study its growth, development, 
in other words, how it maintains its existence. 

Of the origin and nature of Life, as I perceive it, 
I have spoken already. It is necessary now only 
to consider it. Anything that has power of re- 
production, I consider to be alive, or to possess 
Life. Conceiving Life to be Principle invoKdng 
agency of reproduction, I know of only two dis- 
tinct forms of life. Active Principle, and Con- 
scious Active Principle. For general considera- 
tion these may be called respectively. Plant Life 
and Animal Life. This diagram will not be un- 
interesting perhaps. 







RATIONAL 


PLANT 


ANIMAL 


CONSCIOUS 


TJFE 


LIFE 


ANIMAL 
LIFE 


Trees 


Horse 




Flowers 


Cow 


Man 


etc. 


Sheep 
etc. 





1S7 



Man I consider to have rationality in addition 
to being Conscious Active Principle. 



138 



PRINCIPLE 

It will be noted that in the paragraph on Life, 
I spoke of Life as being Principle involving agency 
of reproduction. Now there is, I think, a lesser 
Principle in existence, than the one involving 
agency of reproduction. I call it the Principle 
of Sustentation. It is no less of the will of God 
than the Principle involving agency of repro- 
duction, it being the principle underlying the 
universe. It is in all non-self-reproducing matter. 
In stones, earth, water, fire, it is the Spirit of Preg- 
nancy which sustains this universe, and, I conceive 
the final dissolution of the Cosmos to be no more 
than the withdrawal of this sustaining will act 
from the world, and, upon its withdrawal, I 
believe the earth will dissolve and chaos be. 
Now I w ould not have you infer as you might, from 
my ambiguous writing, that this lesser Principle, 
is different in kind from the other Principle 
heretofore spoken of. On the contrary, it is of 
the same source, of the same kind naturally, only 
different in degree and quality. 



ISO 



UNDERSTANDING 

It is necessary before we can perform any 
action, physical or mental, that we receive, or 
consider an idea priorly received, within the mind. 
It seems then if I were to consider Philosophy 
in its true order, I should here, or heretofore 
have considered ideas, or if I consider understand- 
ing to be the first of human attributes, as I do, 
I should have considered it, in the paragraph on 
begiiniing. As it is of necessity concomitant with 
beginning it should be treated so beyond doubt. 
That is true. Undoubtedly, I consider Under- 
standing to be concomitant with beginning. But 
that it should be treated with it, I can see no 
reason for. Understanding is not of sufficient 
evidence imto itself of being concomitant with 
lieginning at its concomitancy. The gro\^iii of 
an individual is the gro^\i;h of his Understanding. 
Understanding is a gift. It is the framework on 
which ideas are strung. I take it that none of 
us can form an opuiion of understanding, until he 
has experienced something concerning it. I can- 
not recall any experience my mind has had with 
Understanding, that goes back of this: — I had no 
knowledge of understanding beyond the time it 
came into my mind's perspective, as a quality of 
my mind, and that its blending and ascent was 
imperceptil >le and natural, from which I reason 
now, naturally, and without obstinate question - 
140 



ing, that my Understanding was lodged with me 
as a gift concomitant with Life. To me the feel- 
ings are the surest guide. 

Now as to Ideas preceding Understanding, 
that can hardly be, when it is necessary before 
Ideas exist, to have a dwelling place for them. 



Ml 



IDEAS 

We have come now to the greatest of all things 
relative to the phenomena of Life. Ideas fill the 
vale of Life with flowers. They bring smishine, 
light and love. They please or they pain. They 
are a multitude, like the host of motes that give 
beauty and splendor to the rising sun. Without 
them Death is to be preferred. Without them 
we should be suspended between Heaven and 
earth, and more than this we should have no 
knowledge of it. The power of Ideas resides in 
Conscious Principle. Whence come Ideas? Of 
what is their complexion? Have they color or 
bulk, or anything that will identify them ? \Mience 
do they arise? Whence do they flow? How are 
they retained? This questioning might go on ad 
infinitum. It is not my purpose to search or ad- 
vance, only to present what I know as though 
I were some instrument that gives forth music, 
as the fancies of creation wing their flight across 
its impressionable chords. 

Of the ideas of which I write they are only as 
I have known them. They arise in me from 
thoughts, like winds upgathered to be transformed 
soon into beauteous flowers. I seemed to lie on 
the bosom of some Power and an idea came to 
me; I acknowledged it, and I had thought, I dis- 
carded it and I had reasoned, I accepted another. 



142 



and I had used judgment, and the involution was 
will. 

I know of two kinds of Ideas. Ideas of sub- 
stance and Ideas of Fomi. Those in the mind 
by impression of something, and those in the 
mind by previous impression, retained, and those 
through continuity of Ideas. 

Now as to whence these Ideas come. Their 
evidence is made apparent through spontaneity. 
They arise as it were from the mere combination 
of human faculties admitting of them. There is 
one thing peculiar to them which I have noticed 
often. For instance, these very words which I 
write, the verj- paper before me, on which I write, 
the pen upon which I am gazing or whatever else 
that might be, that appears to my sight with the 
power of formulating an idea, that idea is of a 
sufficiency to start a succession of ideas, which, 
if followed will lead the mind gradually, imper- 
ceptible, or by bounds, always, inevitably though, 
higher and higher up from the Earth until it is 
occupied soon, with the thought of God, or a 
Creator or an Infinite. 

Do Ideas have bulk, color, motion, or any other 
qualities of identification? I do not know it if 
they have. They are only to me evidences of 
mental perception. They are in the mind by 
impression, and remain there by retention. To 
me there was never an idea in the mind but what 
is there still if our mnemonic system were perfect. 
143 



INNATE IDEAS 

There are no innate ideas. I reason thusly: 
If there were innate ideas there was never a time 
when there was not an idea. For if ideas be 
innate how can it be argued otherwise, than, 
innate ideas have existed ever since the soul was 
created, unless, it lias heen revealed that innate 
ideas come into existence in a body, at a certain 
time, or that the mind at a certain age is capable 
of recognizing them? 

If innate ideas are concomitant with human 
creation, how do we know it, when w^e have no 
recollection of the first few years of our mortal 
existence? If they come in a body at a certain 
age, at what age is that? and how are we to dis- 
tinguish them from other ideas? And who as- 
sumes the revelation? These questionings might 
go on, with never a satisfactorv answer. And to 
say the least, if experience is the source of all 
knowledge, and experience confirms nothing in 
the matter of innate ideas, I think it injudicious 
and outside my conception of philosophical specu- 
lation, to profess a belief in them or do more, 
other than give them consideration, as I think the 
philosopher should do, of anything that has of 
worthiness enough, for his attention. 



144 



